The ceremony lasted for over ten minutes.
Lovene was tightly bound by the glowing thorns, her white holy robe heavily stained a deep crimson. The dark stains slowly spread downward along the hem of her robe.
When the pattern below her knees reached its final loop, the glowing thorns began to slowly recede, and the ceremony finally came to an end.
Lovene's body slumped forward, collapsing onto the blood-soaked magic runes.
She had nearly lost consciousness. Her long, silvery-white hair was stained red, and her face was pale, her body cold—almost indistinguishable from a corpse.
Mia rushed to her side immediately, using her magic to treat her wounds. Only when Lovene's breathing returned to normal did Mia finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Seeing that Lovene was still alive, the crowd below the high platform let go of their worries and began to disperse. Their steps were much slower than when they had arrived, their minds filled with unreadable thoughts.
Many of the commoners who remained covered their children's eyes, not wanting them to witness this bloody and cruel scene. Their whispered discussions were torn apart by the wind, drifting past everyone's ears before fading into nothingness.
But some stayed behind.
“Father, why is the Saintess punished like this when she is so good to us?”
“Because some people can't stand to see us live well.”
“Will the Saintess still be good to us after this?”
“She will. She will never change.”
“Then when I grow up, I will protect her and drive away those bad people for her!”
Protecting the Saintess had become the strongest desire in the hearts of the territory's children.
...
In the side hall of the lord's manor, Croy leaned against the windowsill, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he burst into a loud laugh. His laughter echoed sharply in the empty hall, causing Seth to furrow his brows in annoyance.
But Croy didn't care. Placing his hands behind his back, he walked from the windowsill to the edge of the sofa and sneered, “This is what happens when you cross us Church Knights! Even the high-and-mighty Saintess has to endure such humiliation. Let's see if those lowlifes dare to oppose me after this!”
In his eyes, the only reason those lowlifes dared to defy his orders was because they had the Saintess backing them up. Once the Saintess was suppressed, they wouldn't even dare to fart in front of him. This was the truth he had realized after years of throwing his weight around.
Sipping his tea, Seth agreed with his statement. “Their faith in the Saintess is indeed devout, but after this ceremony, they probably won't believe in her anymore. After all, even a Saintess bleeds.”
He paused, then smiled. “Once blood is shed, one is no longer a god.”
During his few days in the Oswell territory, he had discovered that the commoners here did not actually worship the Lord of the Morning Light, but rather the Saintess. This was a complete inversion of the natural order. What was a Saintess compared to the Lord of the Morning Light?!
Of course, he didn't actually believe in the Lord of the Morning Light either, but who could deny the massive benefits that came with it? When those foolish Morning Light believers saw him, didn't they still have to respectfully address him as a Church Knight? That was the only reason he defended the Lord of the Morning Light so fiercely. What could worshipping the Saintess bring him? A bunch of rebellious lowlifes?
“Exactly. They will realize that the Saintess can't even protect herself, so how could she possibly protect them?” Croy chimed in.
In the corner, Garnal silently polished his longsword, his actions hinting at his dissatisfaction. Seth coughed and tossed a report onto the table in front of him.
“Garnal, head back to the church first. Tell them the results of the Blood-Bestowal Ceremony. Say the ritual was a great success and that the Lord of the Morning Light was highly pleased. Here is the report.”
Garnal looked up. “What about you two?”
Seth yawned. “We're staying here for a few days, to... spread the faith of the church, so to speak.”
By the end, he couldn't help but laugh, and Croy joined in. Both of them knew exactly what “spreading the faith of the church” really meant.
Whenever they went on a mission, the days after its completion were always the most important to them. Since they weren't required to rush back to the church immediately, they could enjoy a few extra days of rest at the mission site. This was not just a vacation, but also their time to abuse their authority as Church Knights.
Within the empire, except for a few special territories, the commoners in almost every region feared them. They could act with impunity, a practice tacitly permitted by the church.
But Garnal didn't know the full extent of it. He only had a vague inkling that they were staying behind to do something unsavory, though he didn't know the details. Since he couldn't stop them anyway, he simply nodded, picked up the report, and stood up to leave the lord's manor. He didn't want to be a part of this mission for a single second longer.
Seeing him leave, Croy also lost the patience to stay in the lord's manor. “Then I'll head to the tavern for a drink.”
As an alcoholic, every time he went on a mission, he had to visit the local tavern to sample the regional specialties. Seth shook his head, picking up a newspaper from the side. Their vacation had just begun, and he was in no hurry.
...
The tavern door was kicked open from the outside, slamming against the wall with a heavy thud as Croy strode inside.
“Ugh, this smell...” The moment he entered, he was hit by a thick stench of sweat. He swept his gaze across the tavern, finally locking onto the patrons drinking inside. Raising three fingers, he barked, “I'll give you a count of three. If you don't get the hell out, don't blame me for throwing you out myself!”
The room fell dead silent for two seconds. Then, a burly man in front of him smashed his cup on the ground and stood up abruptly. “A Church Knight? I've really had enough of you—”
Before he could finish, Croy dashed forward, grabbed the man's head, and slammed it viciously against the table.
Thud!
The table shattered into pieces. Blood gushed from the burly man's nose and mouth as he collapsed, completely knocked out.
Releasing his grip and letting the man slump to the floor, Croy looked down at the remaining patrons and sneered, “Anyone else have an objection?”
No one answered. Every single one of them stood up, lowered their heads, and hurriedly left through the tavern door. The burly man's friends dragged him by his arms, not daring to look at Croy as they quickly hauled him out.
Soon, only Croy and the bartender were left in the tavern.
“Now, bring me the best alcohol you have here!” Sitting down, Croy propped his legs up on the table and ordered the bartender. Before long, a middle-aged manager emerged from behind the bar.
He was the very same manager from the lord's manor who had previously overseen the bread distribution. And this tavern happened to be the one where Zane worked.
Seeing Croy, he rubbed his hands together and offered a bitter smile. “Ah, if it isn't the esteemed Knight? Please, make yourself comfortable! The alcohol will be right up!” Despite his submissive exterior, his heart was cold, sneering with a chilling intensity.
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